Heure Exquise
Goutal (1984)

I fought tooth and nail to get my hands on a vintage-ish bottle of Annick Goutal’s Heure Exquise, and each time I wear it, I am less and less convinced that the juice was worth the squeeze. Yes, the sandalwood in the drydown is gloriously real, yes, the rose is a powdery delight, and yes, the iris is the starchiest, whitest Irish linen tablecloth you ever did touch. But given the ocean of sharp, musky green soap you have to wade through to get to them, I wonder if I’d have been better off investing in another bottle of 1980s Samsara. Until I remember that I’m not terribly fond of that one either.

I have no real criticism to levy at Heure Exquise in particular. Viewed under any even halfway objective lens, it is a beautiful fragrance. It is just that my soul remains unstirred by green, aldehydic fragrances that draw on galbanum for their emotive power. My problem, however, is that I am also drawn to the evocative descriptions of the scent’s retro, womanly charm whenever it is reviewed. I project myself onto these descriptions, imagining myself to be the type of woman – elegant, fastened-up, but undeniably sensual – for whom Heure Exquise seems to have been created.

But not only am I not that woman, once on the skin, Heure Exquise and its ilk (yes, the whole genre) smells dated to me. Chanel No. 19, Annick Goutal Heure Exquise, Chanel Cristalle, Ormonde Jayne Tiare, Guerlain Chamade, Lancôme Climat, Amouage Gold Woman – all behemoths of classic female ‘power top’ perfumery – are scents that I respect but cannot bring myself to love. On the rare occasion that I do wear them, any attempt to mold them to my own personality falls flat and I am left feeling slightly judged (by my own perfume!) for doing unladylike stuff in its presence, like answering emails in my underwear or balancing a bowl of peanuts on my belly as I flick through Netflix.

Still, with Heure Exquise, the am-I-a-dirty-girl-or-am-I-not vibe gives me pause for thought. Past that atmosphere-rip-tear of a virulently green, dry (gaspingly so) galbanum resin, which gives it more than a passing resemblance to Chanel No. 19, Heure Exquise settles into the almost civety-floral aroma of a bar of Chanel No. 5 soap that’s cracking and grey at the edges, making it seem not entirely impossible that this particular lady who lunches may not have changed her underwear in recent memory. I’m not saying that it’s animalic but there is something a little poopy or yeasty about that musk-sandalwood tandem.

And it is precisely this quality of Heure Exquise that makes me cling to my half used bottle. I appreciate a bit of ladylike smut holding its corner against the hospital corners of floral aldehydes (the horsey, slightly grimy undercurrent in both Vega and Cuir de Russie, for example, is exactly why I love those fragrances). But while Heure Exquise is probably the epitome of the classic, feminine power scent and deserves to be mentioned in the same breath as Mitsouko and No. 19, I am never 100% myself in it and for that reason, it has got to go.

Well, Divinity has arrived in the building.
Everything else, previously called divine, is looking a bit faint and dusty.

Being not too much in the habit of idolising flowers in a perfume, let alone idolise a 'flowers-only' scent (I'm an overall 'woody oriental' worshipper), I am confused by the fact that this perfume compels me to "throw heaps of praise upon it"..

So I question myself:
Would I want to smell like a goddess?
Would I want to own the stature of an empress?
Would I want heads to bow in awe and recognition?
Hm.

Do I bow for Heure Exquise?
Yes.

(February 2012)

After a brief aldehydic whiff the first main player enters the stage: Florentine iris. A gorgeous smooth iris; green with a characteristic aroma, and after the first hours exuding a pleasant powderiness. This is a powderiness with a touch gravitas and mature confidence, but is lacks any stuffiness on me.

The second main player arises soon after: a Turkish rose, quite bright, soft and never heavy, but is lacks the soul and character that is evident in the iris; this rose is a touch less deep and shows less texture.

The second half of the development builds on the initial components, but, after a brief appearance of a darker galbanum develops a sandalwood that is quite light and more in the background, but that contributes sufficient to the whole to be taken seriously. Most interesting is the vanilla that I detect during the last hours: a discrete restrainedly sweet vanilla, that, unlike most of its counterparts in other fragrances these days, is not pushing into the foreground or overwhelming the rest, but is skillfully interwoven with the other notes - this vanilla is the perfect team player and masterfully applied.

I get moderate sillage, excellent projection and nine hours of longevity on my skin.

This beautiful and rich scent for spring evenings demonstrates that one does no need a large amount of notes to create a great fragrance. That is, if the ingredients are if such superb quality as here, and the blending is as skillful as in this creation. Vraiement pour an heure exquise. 3.75/5.

Garden flowers - armloads of purple blooms. An almost plastic, baby doll accord in the background. A new, doll smell. Must be the galbanum sidling up to the other notes of sandalwood, rose, and the purple flowers. Hints of dry, powdery, antique papers, and floral pollen. Iris, becomes rooty. Hiacynth, semi-pungent in character. Plastic note, still prevails. H E is exquisite - no doubt.

The house of Goutal surely knows how to create unusual floral scents. They all mesmerize, even if they don't always agree with me, or create a perfume-crush, in my heart...

Sandalwood increases in the background, with a slight burnt accord. A touch of vanilla, like a flavored brandy... I get a curry-like spice undertone from something here... The "plastic" note eventually fades. It becomes a mixed drink of iris and rose with a faint wood underneath. Lovely!

As a lover of this House (My romance with AG first began in the early 1990s withthe ORIGINAL FORMULATION of Eau d”Hadrian; I also adore Rose Absolue, Grand Amour, as well as the Splendide line), I can say about Heure Exquise, NO. Just no. Powdery, stuffy, heavy, depressing. Will be gifting my 3.4 oz. brand new EDP bottle of this (agree it is somewhere between Chanel No.s 19 & 5, though there is something else very heavy in this AG scent), which I purchased based upon positive Fragrantica reviews. (Who are these people who love this scent?!?) Reminds me of some, cheap,dank smell that would be worn by an older, professional woman (a certain judge comes to mind whom I regularly see in court..) who may also wear Depends lol. AS a professional woman.. I vote serious thumbs down on Heure Exquise. If you're looking for something mature and powdery, I would say rather, try Benevolence by House of Sillage, which has more highly sophisticated bergamot top/mid and base notes. Think high-country equestrian woman (instead of pamper-y local public servant, which IMO is evoked by HE).

Galbanum and Iris. Sandalwood rounds out the fragrance. Seems formal, evening wear type. Nice fragrance.